


Past Zero Time

by CavalierConvoy



Series: Call of Yesteryear: Cav's Classic Mix Tapes [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alien Mythology/Religion, Battle, Car Chases, Drinking & Talking, Flashbacks, Gen, Gestalt (Transformers), Origin Story, Other, Planet Destruction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agreeing to participate in a story circle with Autobots who ran with Optimus Prime, Artemis did not count on Sunstreaker to follow suit with the threat of keeping her honest about her time on Earth thirteen years prior, and the events that led her to joining the <i>Lost Light</i> crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Call of Yesteryear

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for Title: [Past Zero Time by Dark Matter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2GsP9bUGi8)
> 
> (IDW continuum: Before "How Ratchet Got His Hands Back"; Generation 1 continuum: alternate bridge to Season Three original cartoon and Generation 2 comics)
> 
> Throwback Thursday, Fanfiction Edition! Between 1998 and 2003, I had written (under the pseudonym Artemis Prime) nine major arcs and countless other shorts in the Transformers fandom, many of these involving original characters and storylines from role playing in the Oracle of Cybertron. When I picked up writing in the IDW universe, I treated my storylines as though they happened in real time, thirteen years past.

Old legends buried deep  
Spirits of the past  
Hear our nocturnal call  
Our evensong will last forever

\- ["Call of Yesteryear" ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WW9vZexHZ9g)by Atrocity, from  _After the Storm_

The Bar unofficially known as Swerve's  
 _The Lost Light_  
Two Decacycles out of Iacon

"Dammit, Cav!" Swerve shouted above the din of the patrons. "If I hear one more remix of 'Cantina', I'm going to throw you out!"

"You and what battalion?" the white and black Minibot cackled. "I can always switch it to 'What's New, Pussycat'?"

"That was funny only the first five times you pulled that slag!"

Artemis observed the interaction from the back corner booth, nursing a stout; so focused on her sidekick arguing with the bartender that when she felt something bump against her leg, she startled.

"Don't mind Bob; he's just curious," Sunstreaker initiated, taking the seat across from her. "So, what trouble have you been up to since Earth? You kinda dropped off the radar. Not that I was worried or anything. 'Course, I'm one to talk."

Artemis glanced under the table, meeting the wide, vacant optics of an Insecticon with mismatched parts. "You named an Insecticon 'Bob'?"

"Well, 'Spike' was my first choice, but I thought it would get confusing." The yellow and black Autobot turned at the waist, glancing over at Cavalier and Swerve still arguing. "Nice to see some things don't change. And by 'nice', I mean 'there goes the peace and quiet'."

"The problem with Wreckers is that we tend to draw attention," Artemis chuckled into her drink. "So what brought you on this mythical quest?"

"Personal reasons," he shrugged. "Figured the same as you. Two 'frag the universe' gasholes looking to get the hell off a dead planet for a change of scenery."

"Close enough in my book," she agreed, looking up at the three approaching Autobots. The largest of the three, she knew, if only recently: two sols after lift off, she and Trailbreaker had shared the drunk tank to dry out and spent the entire night talking — about what, it was hazy.

"Hey, Art! Want you to meet some friends!" he greeted. Judging by the slur in his voice, he had pounded back at least three stouts with chasers; his companions, one caution-yellow, the other a drab-green with a faceplate, did not seem too keen on his insistence. "Hey, 'Streaker! Great to see you out and about, socialising!"

"Hey, 'Breaker," Sunstreaker slapped on a grin that could have, in the right light, looked like a grimace. "I wouldn't call it 'socialising' as so much as 'two loners trying to enjoy their drinks in peace....'"

"Naw, it's cool," Artemis waved away the comment, holding out her hand to the nearer of the two, the drab green Autobot. "I'm Artemis — ran with Rodimus Earthside."

"Hoist," the green 'bot greeted, reluctantly shaking her hand, before gesturing to the other. "And this is Grapple."

"Ever since the engine malfunction, they've been working down below, which is why you haven't seen much of them," Trailbreaker continued. "Amazing engineers, these two are. Never seen two 'bots work so well together, like they can predict one another's thoughts — "

"I'm certain he doesn't need to hear about that," Grapple interrupted.

"She," Trailbreaker and Sunstreaker corrected in unison.

"Hey, we were thinking of taking the centre table," Trailbreaker flicked a thumb behind him, "and swap some stories between us Earthsiders. Care to join us?"

Artemis shrugged. "Eh, what the hell. You, 'Streaker?"

Sunstreaker chortled. "Only if you start the ball rolling." He smirked, leaning forward, "And guess what? I'm gonna keep you honest."

Trailbreaker clapped his hands together, spun on his heel to face Swerve at the bar, and bellowed, "Anyone and everyone who wants to participate in drinking and storytelling, centre table now! Tonight's topic: Earthbound!"

Cavalier hooted, bolting to a seat. "Amazing, underrated game for the SNES console!"

Picking up her glass, Artemis followed Trailbreaker, Hoist, and Grapple to the large table in the middle of the bar. What had she gotten herself into?


	2. The Final Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galvatron makes his big push on Autobot City, just as Starscream implements his own plan into gear, just as the Cybertronian faction only known as Legion, announces their presence in the Arm by destroying a Sirian colony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted this Friday morning instead of my intended Thursday. The 'Junxy and me ended up in an impromptu arts meeting that lasted longer than intended. That means I post twice today!

We're leaving together  
But still it's farewell  
And maybe we'll come back to earth, who can tell?  
I guess there's no one to blame  
We're leaving proud  
Will things ever be the same again  
—["The Final Countdown"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-E72v6G9JHY), originally by Europe; covered by Laibach from NATO

 

Thirteen stellar cycles prior  
Seti VIII (Noveau Alaska), Sagittarius Arm

By galactic standards, Seti VIII was a tax write off.

On the fringe of Sirian space — and the Sagittarius Arm — the tiny planet, nicknamed Noveau Alaska by its human settlers, was cold, reaching temperatures of 5 degrees Centigrade during its summer months, and dropping to negative-twenty in the winter. Tolerable for many carbon-based lifeforms but not so much that it would have been considered prime settling land, it would have been looked over if it wasn't for one thing: it was petrol-rich and was able to renew this resource quickly.

One hundred thousand Sirians and Terrans, as well as a few colony Cybertronians, called the planet home.

There was little fear of attack; most outside the Galactic Council members would not attack Sirian colonies, and for the remaining Decepticons of Cybertron, now split between Charr and pockets on Cybertron and Earth, it was too far away to be considered a strategic advantage. With the exception of transport ships that came in three or four times a stellar cycle, there was little contact between Seti VIII and Sirius II.

No one knew why the alien spacecraft appeared one day, an asymmetrical monstrosity, arrived in Seti's solar system, but its intentions were made perfectly clear. There had been no demands, no warnings, no threats.

There were few survivors in the massacre that followed; Jyr Wandering Star, the captain of the Sirian transport Von's Blade, got her and the crew of the ship into orbit before the monstrous ship attacked the planet's surface, launching a barrage of precision missiles down onto Noveau Alaska's one city, Petit-Juneau.

Mioshi Hirosama, Von's Blade's only human, computer expert, and empath, had screamed out in one hundred thousand dying voices, falling unconscious as the crew stared in horror at the attack that unfolded before them.

"Savant, enable back up control!" Jyr barked, her stocky frame trembling with her deep voice, "get us the hell out of here, maximum speed!" Turning to the Tauran female on her right, a large bovine biped with black and white spotting slouched over a communications console, she then ordered, "Tana, send out transmissions of this to the Galactic Council and Sirius Prime!"

"Aye, Captain!" Tana bleated.

Jyr looked down at the human, unconscious in his chair. She stroked his spiky dyed blonde hair, worried, staring up at the viewscreen once more.

"Who the hell are they...?" she questioned, more to herself than anything. The symbol on the side of the attacking ship, a teal, stylized face leering angrily at them, caught her regard: she had never seen this particular styling before, but she recognized the basic pattern.

"Cybertronian?" she whispered, surprised.

 

***

 

Outside Autobot City  
Oregon, United States  
Earth

The rocky terrain mirrored her mood. 

The gloss black Autobot stared off to a point in the horizon, towards Mount St. Hillary. Cupping her face in her hands, she brought her knees to her chest and propped her elbows, ice blue optics contemplating existence. The sun glinted painfully against her high definition chrome, casting dancing reflective rainbows into her shadow.

In her long life, Artemis had donned many guises, done many things, seen many lives played out before her. But she was tired of playing. Start anew. 

An unnatural breeze, cold, painful, brushed against her cheek. Tensing up, she resisted the now familiar pull. Instead, she ignored the phantom gesture.

"Arty," the familiar, mocking voice that had, at one point long ago, belonged to a scientist she had once loved, breathed next to her helm. "You're losing yourself again...are the nightmares becoming too much for you?"

"What do you want?" she demanded, lacking any emotion. Be cold. Don't let him get under your exostructure.

"You came out here to think," Starscream's ghost whispered, almost sincerely. The sensation of one sitting next to her was present, even though the spectre had willed himself totally invisible. "About what? About the upcoming battle? Galvatron is on Earth, as your fellow Autobots-" to this, he scoffed, "-go to intercept him. And they will succeed. But because of us, there is dissension in Galvatron's army. Those who haven't been banished yet still hold the seed of doubt about Galvatron, causing them to abandon him in his time of need. This battle will be the one to end it, I think. This is the final conflict between Decepticon and Autobot." Anger seeped into his monologue. "And the Autobots will win."

"Yep," she nodded, goading him. "We will win."

"Dammit, Arty!" Had he still possessed his shell, he would have taken her by the shoulders and shook her. "You're not an Autobot! Must I remind you that constantly? Once Galvatron is defeated, I will reclaim my rightful place as Decepticon leader! I will bring the Decepticons back to their former glory!" 

_"Yo, Arty! Blaster blastin' atcha!"_

Ignoring Starscream, she activated her communications link. "What's up, Blaster?"

_"Got some weird vibes sent down by both Iacon Defense and EDC. Figured you know your way around the galaxy, maybe you could help put two and two together. Think you could come in and be a little social with me and the boys?"_

"I'm heading in, Blaster. Artemis out."

Standing, she stretched her arms over her head before testing her left shoulder, wincing as a dull ache radiated from the rotator. Once the ache subsided, she transformed into her sleek vehicle mode, a large old style musclecar. Without so much as a farewell to the ghost, she turned over her engine with a roar before shifting into gear, rumbling towards the city at a moderate pace.

Starscream watched with narrowed emotions.

"You're resisting me, Arty," he chided. "But no matter...in the end, your position will be assured. You'll always be mine."

 

***

Portland, Oregon  
Interstate 5

_"Too fast, too fast don't compromise, too fast, too fast won't realize, I have hand on wheel I set the sights, drive with me!"_

The white and black compact sports car drove with abandon as the lyrics to Coal Chamber's "Big Truck" pulsed through her speakers, weaving through traffic that even the most reckless of rush hour drivers would have thought twice. 

Following close behind was a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle. "Take it easy, Cav!" Bumblebee ordered. "I'm not as manoeuvrable as you, you know!"

"Don't try to keep up with me, then!" she retorted.

"Ease up your throttle, kid!" the beat-up blue and grey pickup warned, picking up the Cavalier's flank. "You're going to get yourself blown apart!"

 _"Kup, You're heading right into the Stunticons' playground,"_ Springer reported, hovering his helicopter mode a kilometer from their position. _"Protectobots are cleaning up after them, but they need some help in pursuit!"_

"Music to my audio receptors!" Cavalier whooped, pushing her tach to the red line and shooting past the other Autobots.

"Dammit! She's going to get herself killed!" Bumblebee swore.

"Hotspot, this is Kup," the pickup hailed. "We're coming to assist, with Cavalier leading the charge. Make sure she doesn't get blown up in the interim."

 _"Stormrave here,"_ a crisp femme voice called out. _"I've got Sweep activity in Portland airspace. Permission to take them down?"_

 _"Permission granted, but take care!"_ Ultra Magnus's voice cracked out on the same frequency. _"Priority is to protect the native population!"_

_"Acknowledged, sir."_

A large, streamline SUV, red with yellow and orange stylized flames painted on the sides, pulled parallel to the pickup truck, keeping to speed. "Anyone pick up any of the big three?" Rodimus Prime demanded, answered by a wave of negative responses, save one.

 _"I've got a visual, Rodimus,"_ the Protectobot Blades replied, maintaining a high aerial reconnaissance scan. _"Concentrated on the downtown area, with...oh, Primus...Devastator is with them!"_

"Silverbolt! We need Superion to get Devastator out of the downtown district, ASAP!" Rodimus barked. "Grimlock, you and your boys help Superion take out Devastator!"

 _"Decepticons attacking in full force, as underpowered as they are,"_ Magnus observed, _"they must have used up most of their energy to get back to Earth._ "

"There's no way Astrotrain could have carried all those Decepticons," Rodimus added. "Speaking of which, Springer, Grooves, any visual of Astrotrain?"

 _"Negative, Rodimus,"_ the Protectobot reported.

 _"None in my sector, either,"_ Springer agreed, worry hinting his voice.

"That's what I was afraid of," Rodimus sighed.

 _"Trypticon,"_ Ultra Magnus exhaled.

"Well, on the bright side, Trypticon's probably so low on power, he's not a viable threat," Kup commented in hopes to raise morale.

"Let's hope you're right, old timer." With a burst of speed, Rodimus pulled past Kup and Bumblebee, the Stunticons now in sight.

 

***  
Autobot City

Listening into the conversations over multiple bandwidths, the Autobot communications director mulled over the situations unfolding, casting his gaze behind him when he heard the door slide open.

"What's going on, Blaster?" the gloss black femme demanded, approaching the console bank.

"Iacon received an emergency transmission from Sirian fringe space, the _Von's Blade_."

"It's a Sirian oil tanker," Rewind, a black and white Deployer, stated. "Capable of hauling crude petrol using limited Sirian fold engines."

"They were attacked?"

"They weren't," Blaster shook his head, his optics wide. "But Seti VIII was."

"Noveau Alaska?" To this, the ex-mercenary's head snapped up. "It's out in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone want that hunk of ice?"

"The petrol?" Blaster questioned with a shrug.

"Normally, that would be a motive," Rewind interjected once more, "save that Artemis is right about it literally being in the middle of nowhere. To stake it for its renewable resources, one must be as financially secure as the Sirians, due to equipment costs and maintenance, skilled laborers...it's not viable"

"What happened to planetary defences?" Artemis then questioned.

Blaster shrugged. "Taken by surprise. They didn't know the ship was in the vicinity until it was right on top of them. By then, Petit-Juneau was vaped. They never knew what hit them, and we probably wouldn't have had the Blade not left at the time it did."

"Any clues who did it?"

"The _Blade's_ captain said it was Cybertronians."

"'Cybertronians'?" Artemis dimmed her optics. "Not Decepticons?"

"Non-aligned, perhaps?" Rewind suggested. 

"Give me a stellar map of the quadrant," Artemis ordered. "Pinpoint Seti VIII in relation to Charr, Reicere, Cybertron and Cygnus VII."

"You're shifting into fifth, girl," Blaster observed, "what's shaking?"

"We can rule out Galvatron's crew, but that leaves Rejected and splinter groups."

"Seti VIII is well over a thousand light years from either Reicere and Charr," Rewind explained as the stellar map in one of the smaller monitors animated the paths to each planet. "To access Seti VIII from just about anywhere, one must use a monitored warp gate near Sirius II."

"Meaning if they were to attack the planet, they would have to get there conventionally," Artemis nodded, "and take the long way there."

"Roughly sixty-five stellar cycles to travel the distance with current fold engine technology, without the use of space bridges, which I'll point out are heavily regulated and monitored."

"Well, I hope they had packed some magazines," Blaster whistled.

"Any images of the attacker's ship?" Artemis then asked.

"A couple," the communications chief nodded. "Nothing clear, though."

"And nothing that matches anything in our databases," Rewind added, bringing up the blurry satellite images of a large, asymmetrical ship.

"Anything you recognise?" Blaster asked the gloss-black Autobot. 

She shook her head. "Nothing I've seen before. I mean, it looks like one of ours — "

"Like I said, nothing I've seen in the archives," Rewind shrugged. "Similarities, perhaps, but no matches."

"Similarities are good. Similarities work. Can we find something similar?" Blaster questioned.

"It's a start," Rewind agreed, his tone hinting doubt.

As the archivist dove into his work, Blaster turned his attention back to Artemis. "Ever got the feeling we're looking at the end of things?"

"Every sol that I get out of recharge," she admitted.

 

***  
Four Winds Bar  
Kethys, Sirius II

The royal blue hulk of a Decepticon stood rigid, his arms crossed over the cracked canopy of his chest, one good ruby optic glaring at the video screen. An asymmetrical ship, long, narrow, vicious. His attention was keyed at the symbol on the side of the ship, followed by familiar writing in a script most of the employees of this establishment recognized. 

"You've seen this before," the peppered grey Sirian male huffed, his stance mirroring the much larger Decepticon.

"I've seen this before," Darxtar grumbled, his optic dimming. "And I don't like it."

"I don't think any of us do, Darxtar," Minerva Ryder, the stocky blonde human female, grumbled, sitting on the bar with her legs swinging over the edge. "What is it?"

The Decepticon bartender growled intangibly, shaking his head.

A nervous whine took precedence as the attention of the nine present employees of the bar shifted to the green and gold insect Cybertronian, his twitching of his antennae and mandibles the only movement.

"Waspy?" Minerva questioned, jumping from the countertop. Approaching the small Transformer, she took him by the shoulder. Wide, iridescent optics of violet and green shimmered in fear. "Waspinator, what's wrong?"

Waspinator nodded, regaining control of his shell, his wings fluttering. "Legion," he whimpered, cowering as though he feared the word itself.

"Who?" Drez demanded, shooting his gaze back up to Darxtar.

The old 'Con took his time to answer. "We're talking ancient history, even by our standards," Darxtar began, pulling his stool towards the bar and sat with a groan, "Nova Prime's era. Over six million stels ago. Before Decepticons and Autobots."

"Before Decepticons and Autobots?" This question came from the most recent employee of Four Winds, another human, an auburn-haired young man.

"I'm expecting you'd tell us," Minerva suggested, "because we have time to play Twenty Questions."

The old Decepticon shook his head before striding from behind the bar to a table in the back corner, unofficially reserved for the Spirals. Sinking heavily onto the chair, he focused on a spot above the door.

"Darxtar," Drez growled.

"Thing is, Legion was rooted in legend — prehistory, even religious prattle." Darxtar swung a leg up onto the table and leaned back in the seat, folding his hands behind his head. "Before the current factions, even before the Age of Expansion. Maximo conspired with the tribe of Megatronus — where Megatron got his name, mind, otherwise no relation." 

"Which I'm assuming happened before the Great War...?" Minerva prompted.

"The progenitor of all Wars on Cybertron, in fact." Darxtar rubbed the bridge of his nose, bowing his head. "Before we had any sort of global government. Eleven of the thirteen tribes left the planet, amongst them, Maximo and his tribe, whom were Legion."

"But that's just a myth, right?" Luke questioned.

A thick silence settled over the group as they cast a collective gaze to the the temporally-displaced Predacon, who was cowering in the shadow of the kitchen door.

"Maybe it's not them," Luke then suggested. "Maybe it's some other faction...?"

"Could it be your weapon dealers?" Minerva directed to Darxtar.

"Thunderwing's Decepticons are recluses," Darxtar stated. "They broke off with Megatron for the reason they didn't want to get involved with any politics." With a growl, the Decepticon then added, "Doubt we'd get anywhere with them, but I'll see what I can dig up."

"Ryder, you're going to Sol III," Drez then stated firmly. "Contact the Autobots there, let them know what we know. Protect the investment."

"Kup's your contact," Darxtar added. "Take your transtector."

"Need a hand?" Luke offered.

"Negative." Her order was firm, not to be questioned. "We need you here for relay."

"Agreed," Drez nodded. "As much as I hate to admit it, I need you and the bug. You cock-ups are handling comms. As for — "

The large double doors flew open, rain pouring in on the hardwood floor.

"What the hell...?" Drez demanded as collectively the group turned to face their unannounced visitors. Two Cybertronians stood, water gleaming their metal. Or rather, one stood, a blue and white Seeker, holding upright his much larger companion, a dark-grey and violet triple changer with rounded wings.

"Swindle sold us out," Thundercracker rumbled, helping Astrotrain into a chair. The triple changer groaned in pain, cradling his side.

Darxtar covered the distance between his table and the two with a good clip. "What the frag happened?"

"Galvatron thought we were holding out on information," Astrotrain hissed, wincing as he tried to sit up, "and he went directly to Swindle for answers."

"All the Decepticons still under his command went to Earth," Thundercracker continued. "They're too frightened, Darxtar. They're not going to go along with the plan."

"What happened to you two?" The bartender demanded.

"Swindle fingered us exclusively," Astrotrain moaned. "I wasn't even part of this stupid plan!"

"The more names Swindle dropped, the less likely Galvatron would vape him," Thundercracker explained, exasperated, as though he had already been through this topic a hundred times. "Darxtar...as soon as Galvatron comes back from Earth, win or lose...he's gonna go after us. We need protection."

"Hey, I'm in charge here!" Drez barked.

"I don't ask for help from flesh creatures!" Thundercracker snapped, his fist balled up at his sides, ready to pounce if it wasn't for Darxtar placing a warning hand on the Seeker's cockpit.

"I'll grant it, if you recognize Drez as the boss here," Darxtar ordered sternly. "I owe him big time, so if I can swallow my pride and agree to his terms, you can too. Or else it's Reicere or back to Galvatron."

The younger Seeker sighed. "Fine," he agreed, before adding, "Astrotrain needs patching up."

"We'll get you to the hangar," Darxtar explained, "and have our mechanics take a look at that."

"Wait a minute! I didn't agree yet!" Drez snarled, before holding his hands by his head. "Fine. Patch him up. I'll think about them staying here. In the meantime, Darxtar, you're responsible for them! They cock up, it's out of your share!"

"Thanks, old wolf," Darxtar grunted. "Thundercracker, seeing that you're in no need for repairs, you're coming with me."

"Wait — what?" This took the younger Seeker by surprise.

"I'm heading to Cygnus VII. You're coming with me."

Thundercracker furrowed his brow, a sneer threatening the corner of his mouth. "The Pretenders?" he questioned. "Why?"  
"I'll fill you in why on the way. C'mon."

"Keep us posted, Tin Man," Drez ordered the older Decepticon. Darxtar saluted as he and Thundercracker helped Astrotrain to his feet, helping him walk to the back of the bar with Trin picking up the rear.

"I can't believe the two of you," Drez growled, baring teeth at Minerva. "I didn't hire you because of your damned charity streaks!"

"Calm down, Drez," Minerva patted his arm. "We do tend to find those who will pull their weight and then some. Darxtar could use an assistant and Astrotrain would help out in transport."

"Howl-damned women," the pepper-grey Sirian cursed, pulling his arm back and sulking towards Luke and Waspinator. "Get the hell out of here! You've got your orders! Now get!"

Under her breath, she questioned, "What about Artemis?"

"You think Swindle dropped her name as well?" the Sirian suggested.

"I don't think he had to," Minerva harrumphed. "We were able to clean up the mess with the Unicron chip fiasco, and likely our entire LLC has a target."

Drez woofed. "Little good that'll do them. I'll beef up the MS unit just to be on the safe side. As for Art, she's with the Autobots. If anything happens to her, it's out of their hide, not ours."

"Contract or not, she's one of ours," Minerva warned. "She's still Spiral."

"Dammit, woman, you want me to show I care, don't you?" Drez pointed an accusing finger at the human. "Yes, I am concerned about her. But she can take care of Galvatron; she's got the resources available to take care of him outside the Four Winds. I don't hire incompetent idiots, you know." With a chortle, he then flipped his thumb at Waspinator. "Save him, of course, but we all make mistakes."

"Waspinator resent that remark," Waspinator whimpered. 

Luke patted the small Transformer's shoulder. "He's just teasing," he reassured. "Hell, he calls me an idiot too."

"You're an idiot for defending him! Now get back to work! I don't pay you for standing around and chatting!"

"You pay us?" Luke gasped. To this, Minerva snorted as Drez glared at the young man. "Okay, I'm sorry! Waspy, let's get outta here before he decides to eat our entrails."

In a way, the light-hearted joking was good for the spirit, Drez thought to himself. But for how long would it last before they would need to shift gears towards the more dire nature of things...?

***  
Interstate 5  
Oregon

As Wildrider crashed into the guardrail by a hard shove from behind, he overcompensated, spinning in a tight circle to maintain the bead on the agile white and black Autobot that had tapped his fender. Crashing into Breakdown, both Stunticons found themselves coming at rest against the interstate median wall with a sickening crunch, only to be joined by Dead-end, who had not been paying attention to the accident, crashing head-first into both of his brothers.

Dragstrip, running parallel with Motormaster, only had a few more seconds than Dead-end to contemplate what the hell had happened before being bumped roughly on his left, sending him spinning underneath his leader. Before Motormaster could fathom what had transpired, his rear tires rolled over the unfortunate Stunticon full force. Transforming with an agonizing cry, Dragstrip crashed five-hundred feet past his three brothers.

"So much for my paintjob!" Cavalier chirped, taking up the spot where Dragstrip had been moments before.

"You think you're clever, Autobrat," Motormaster snarled, slowing down for his cab to run side by side with the brash Autobot.

"I think this calls for a change in music." Drums and bass of AC/DC's "Who Made Who" thrummed through her sound system. Ignoring the larger Decepticon infuriated him even further as, with a battle cry, he jerked sharply to the left as to run her into the median wall. Swiftly, she downshifted, dropping back to his trailer and darting underneath, between the raised docking stands and the rear tires, sparks flying where her roof scraped against the underside of the Stunticon leader. Escaping to the right hand side of Motormaster, she floored the gas, shifting back into her high gear and shot past him. He tapped the wall with a rain of debris, then, yanking back, Motormaster took pursuit of the sportscar, his engine hitting roaring as he picked up speed, gears jamming hard.

"Okay, so this dude's going down a little harder," she grumbled in frustration before Brian Johnson's wailing voice belted out from her stereo. This brightened her mood as she sang along. _"'The video game says "play me," face it on a level but it takes you every time on a one on one! Feeling running down your spine, nothing gonna save your one last dime 'cuz it owns you! Through and through!'_ Hey, Mags! What's your twenty?"

_"Referring to a commanding officer in a familiar manner is not — "_

_"Give her hell back at base — she wants to know where you are,"_ Kup interrupted. _"And you, scraplet, are going to give my fuel pump a seizure if you keep driving as reckless as you-"_

"Whatevs." In her rearview, Motormaster gunned forward, closing the gap between the two. Cavalier veered right onto an exit ramp, to avoid any further collision. "I could use an assist here!"

 _"Locked onto your position,"_ Magnus snapped. _"No more high risk maneuvers! That's an order!"_

"Whatevs...sir." Then, adding under her breath, "On the way back we can stop at the muffler place and have them check out that rod stuck up your exhaust..."

 _"Cav, your radio's still on!"_ Rodimus warned, somewhere between mortification and amusement as Ultra Magnus's otherwise silent disapproval managed to translate over the comms.

"Oopsie." The white and black Autobot giggled before checking her rearview again. Motormaster had followed and was picking up speed by the second. The Stunticon leader was the poster child for equal opportunity road rage, taking out guardrails, pylon cones, and water-filled construction barrels in his pursuit of her. Ahead of her, the exit ramp widened onto an evacuated street. Downshifting and braking, she left a smoking patch as she spun a sharp turn right, shifting up fast and hard. Motormaster attempted to negotiate the turn, but failed, his trailer swinging into the turn, slowing him down and threatening an overturn. 

Cavalier snatched up on precious seconds, darting towards the center of the downtown area. As Motormaster picked up more speed, he was clipped hard by a white white car carrier, overtaking him and pulling hard in front of him, before the brake lights of the carrier flared.

Ramming little Autobots from behind was one thing. Dealing with big Autobots, on the other hand, was not his style.  
Slamming on his own brakes, Motormaster swerved sharply to avoid collision, only to have his trailer twist a too much, rocking off the right tires, tipping. Attempting to compensate, the Stunticon leader only succeeded in jackknifing his rig, his cab meeting a similar fate as his trailer as it dragged him onto his side. Quickly transforming, he did so, only too late, as Ultra Magnus stood over him, the barrel of his rifle at gross point blank.

"Autobots," the Autobot City commander hailed, as the white and black sportscar disappeared over the horizon, "Stunticons have been neutralized."

*

Cavalier knew she was going to hear from both Kup and Ultra Magnus when they got back to base. Might get some punishment duties tacked on for good measure. Overall, a job well done in her mind, though she would need to spend some downtime with Tracks and the boys in the body shop. No loss there; it was time she got a new paint job.

The tarmac underneath the Minibot trembled. Reverting to robot mode, she slid to her knees, taking for cover and readying her railgun as she scanned the area. A giant foot that in other form would have been a cement mixer slammed hard into the pavement where she had once been.

"Frag!" she swore, activating her radio. "Optics downtown — we've got Devastator sighting!" Scrambling back to her feet and slinging her railgun over her shoulder, she bolted, returning to vehicle mode to put more distance between her and the most powerful gestalt in Cybertron history. Sometime down the road, she would brag about how she took out Menasor; facing Devastator single-handedly was one bragging right she was not ready to earn.

 _"Cav! Converge on our signal!"_ Rodimus ordered through the radio. Giving a noise of affirmation, she locked onto his radio signature and downshifted to take a tight corner onto a wide main drag. Superion, with the Dinobots by his feet, was in her sight. Rushing from behind the gestalt and the Dinobots were the other Autobots, twelve more in addition to the Dinobots and the Aerialbots. Darting between Superion's legs, she slammed on her brakes and turned sharply, tyres smoking (going to need to replace those, too) on the pavement as she about-faced, falling into line with the other Autobots, taking up Rodimus's right flank, opposite of Kup.

"Chew her out later, Kup," Rodimus warned just as the veteran took a breath. "We've got more things to worry about right now."

"Like the big-aft mofo coming our way?" Jazz questioned, as Devastator rounded the corner somewhat clumsily, towering over Superion by almost ten metres.

"Like the big-aft mofo coming our way," Rodimus agreed as the battle procession slowed down to a complete halt, transforming together as one unit.

*

On top of the skyscraper overlooking the potential battle, red optics gleamed in anticipation. Galvatron, the setting sun glinting off his arm cannon, grinned as Devastator moved into check. With Bruticus as a backup, there was no hope for the Autobots now. "Cyclonus," he beckoned his second-in-command. 

Loyalty and intelligence was a rarity, and Cyclonus fit both criteria. "Yes, my lord?" he questioned smoothly.

"It's time we took our trumps," Galvatron chortled. "Have Trypticon attack Autobot City."

"Of course, my lord." Standing upright, Cyclonus leapt off the building, transforming into his sleek jet mode and darting northward. 

Scourge's optics followed the trail of exhaust before bending one knee to his lord. "Lord Galvatron, what will you have of me?" he questioned, eager to pleasnmce.

"Take your Sweeps and dispose of the Autobot flyers," Galvatron placed a hand on the loyal Sweep commander's shoulder, urging Scourge to rise. Scourge did so with an enthusiastic nod.

"It is done, my lord. I will bring you their heads." Following suit of Cyclonus, Scourge banked sharply towards the two non-gestalt Autobot jets still maintaining a holding pattern over the main street.

Galvatron turned to the final member of this elite rooftop club. The one non-Unicron-built Decepticon he still held respect for, Soundwave watched the scene passively, arms crossed over his chest. "I want you to remain up here," Galvatron ordered the silent dark-blue sentry. "Keep tabs on your spies. If they run into any trouble, contact me."

"Of course, Lord Galvatron," Soundwave agreed, his voice and expression stoic. Unlike Cyclonus and Scourge, Soundwave had no reason to grovel. In times past, even when Starscream was Megatron's second, Soundwave would be his named successor. Some of that thought transferred to Galvatron, and while the mad leader couldn't care less what happened to the other Decepticons, Soundwave was the only one from the once-glorious Decepticon army who still held a shred of respect from Galvatron, even more so than Cyclonus and Scourge.

Which was why Galvatron had spent so much effort trying to rid the loyal spymaster of the virus he had contracted from Unicron a stellar cycle past. Galvatron took flight towards the massive violet and green gestalt as Soundwave watched on.  
The spymaster caught a movement, a stir of air. A shape, more with his mind's optic, began to unfold, a familiar shape Soundwave knew quite well.

"I can see you, Starscream," he revealed in monotone.

The ghost, as though with physical form, stepped back as though surprised. "How?" the demand was shrill.

Soundwave chose not to answer this, and instead ignored Starscream. This action pulled the deceased Air Commander out of his shock. "Answer me, Soundwave. How can you see me?"

"Shall I go into scientific detail, or will 'because I can' suffice?"

The sarcasm was out of character for the spymaster. "Why do I have the feeling Unicron gave you this ability?" Starscream, as though walking around Soundwave, faced him.

"Unicron is doing everything in his power to shift the scales-"

"-to his favor, I know, I know."

"Negative."

A pause. "My, you are just full of surprises today, aren't you, old friend? If not to his favor, then why is he doing it?"

"Order has gone out of control."

To this, Starscream said nothing.

"The universe is degrading, like all things material," Soundwave continued. "From absolute order comes entropy."

"I find it hard to believe that the Great Destroyer Unicron does not have an ulterior motive other than preventing the cosmic entropy."

"You would find it hard to believe." Soundwave turned to the spectre as though he was physically there, the difference in Soundwave was the green glow in his optic band. "I have found a use for you, Starscream."

"Is that so?" Now that Soundwave's behavior made sense, Starscream resumed his cocky attitude. "And why should I heed you, almighty Unicron?"

"I will make it worth your while. I will give back what you had possessed, and more. But the terms can be discussed later. For now, I wish to watch this game in peace." Turning his back on the ghost, Soundwave kept his attention on Devastator lunging at Superion.

"What terms?" Starscream demanded. "Tell me, Unicron! What are your terms!"

The spymaster made no effort to acknowledge the dead Decepticon. With an angry huff, Starscream willed himself away from the skyscraper.

Unicron's comment intrigued him: a new shell, perhaps? Power that he had only imagined? Leadership of the Decepticons? It was too good of a deal to pass up. After all, what would a dead god want? And furthermore, if it was anything short of selling out his spark, what moral taboos was Starscream willing to break? 

Especially if he was to become a god.

*

Ultra Magnus joined the Autobots from the rear, transforming into a run and bolting to the front lines, towards Rodimus and Kup. 

"The Decepticons are converging onto us, Rodimus!" Blades exclaimed, landing in the midst of his fellow Protectobots. First Aid's hand clenched into a fist as he stepped forward to address his leaders.

"We need to keep human casualties at a minimum!" he interjected. "Please, sir, we should send a scout out to make sure the humans were evacuated!"

"And if Bruticus shows up?" Hotspot took hold of his fellow Protectobot's shoulder.

"I'll be able to air evac if we need to," Springer volunteered, stepping forward. "As long as Powerglide and Stormrave can keep the Sweeps off of me."

Cavalier, being unusually quiet, her head cocked to one side and optics dimmed. She snapped her head up, swinging her railgun to ready. "Cracked their freq! We've got incoming!" she barked.

"Springer, go!" Rodimus ordered. "Stormer, Powerglide, did you hear that?"

 _"Loud and clear, Rod!"_ Powerglide acknowledged.

 _"Mission accepted! Springer, we've got your aft covered!"_ Stormrave added.

Transforming into his ground vehicle mode, Springer gunned down the street, fishtailing before aquiring the traction to maintain speed, while avoiding the laser fire from enemy troops.

"Superion, get Devastator out of the city!" Rodimus ordered. "Protectobots, keep your optics peeled for Bruticus! The rest of us in a loose defencive; I want to be able to get cover if we need to. Cav, radio Blaster and tell him to send Omega Supreme to meet up with Superion outside the city; tell him Superion will need help dealing with Devastator if he's feeling uncooperative."

"Lad, is that wise?" Kup demanded.

"Like Magnus said," Rodimus retorted, his voice dark, older, "at this point, we need to neutralize the enemy. Autobots, let's roll!"

 

***  
Cybertron Defense Hub  
Iacon, Cybertron

Above the space port, Elita One watched through the large bay windows as the evac personnel helped refugees out of the rescue shuttles. Her arms crossed over her abdomen, she contemplated what had just happened.

Sky Patrol had come across a battered ship, brimming with Autobot survivors of a until-recently forgotten colony, roughly a solar cycle ago. Decepticons, as expected, were the culprits in the attack; cross-checking stellar charts with where they had found the ship and every known pirate and rogue Decepticon bases yielded little informaton; too far to be of any strategic advantages, too random, did not fit normal patterns.

Much like the reports from Seti VIII.

The harsh florescent lights reflecting against her rose paint, she pivoted to leave the room, to meet the refugees, to find out what happened on their planet.

Warpath and Firestar were attempting to calm one of the refugees. He was young, perhaps from the same generation as Warpath, with an orange and black paint job, likely a triple-changer. He was lashing out with angry gestures and harsh words.

"Warpath, Firestar, report," Elita ordered.

"You're in charge here?" the newcomer demanded, pushing away Warpath and marching straight to the Autobot leader. "What the hell is going on here? My ancestors left this scrap ball to get away from your stupid war, and now they're bringing it to us! They destroyed our home!"

"Please," she held up her hand in defence, her voice even, low, cool. "Yes, I am head of operations in Iacon Proper. My name is Elita One. Please, calm down, and tell me what happened."

The triple-changer's vents huffed. "My name is Sandstorm," he revealed. "I was speaker-elect in our Senate, on Paradron, in the Crux system. We were attacked without warning by Decepticons a decacycle ago. They destroyed everything we built, and massacred the majority of our people." With a wave of his hand, he indicated the other Autobots surrounding the medical and other emergency personnel. "We're all that's left of Paradron, Elita One. We were the lucky ones. It was just by luck we came across a working space bridge; the sentients who manned it gave us coordinates to Cybertron."

"The Sirians?" Elita One prompted.

"I was too busy citing refugee status to ask." Taking another deep breath as to calm the urge to spar, he then questioned, "What will be done about it? We've got to stop the Decepticons. I told the Senate we needed to be better prepared in the case of attack, and this is what happened...I don't want to see it happen again, not to us, not to other Autobots, not to their allies...."

"It's all right, Sandstorm." She placed a reassuring hand on the young Autobot's shoulder. "You're safe here. We'll find out who did this to your home. In the meantime, we welcome you to stay here as long as you wish."

"On behalf of my people, thank you." He was calming down. "I think they know that we can't keep hiding. We're mostly merchants and medics, but we'll help out where we can."

"I'm gravely sorry for what has happened to your people," Elita One bowed her head. "But we will do what we can to bring those did this to justice."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sandstorm nodded shortly. "I...I have one request."

Elita One regarded the youth, a silent invitation to continue.

"Our rescuers spoke of Galvatron," he revealed. "They said he was probably behind this."

"Highly unlikely," Elita One explained. "Galvatron has been contained on Sol III; he would not have the resources to reach Paradron within such a short time frame."

"Besides, those Decepticreeps already had the kazam kicked out of them," Warpath interjected.

"At this point, they're desperate," Firestar added. "They're fighting a losing battle."

"So you think there's other Decepticon factions out there?" Sandstorm questioned.

"We're not certain they're Decepticons," the rose-colored femme revealed. "Initial reports have drawn similarities, but nothing concrete."

Sandstorm grew quiet, his expression thoughtful. "Sol III," he whispered. "I want to go there on your next transport."

This took the defense leader by surprise. "What for?"

"I...I can't explain it," Sandstorm turned away. "Just...I just want to see the enemy myself, I suppose. So I know who we're up against."

Even if there's no proof? She held back on her counter argument, and instead settled on "I'll think about your request, Sandstorm. Please, rest for now. You had a long trip."

Firestar placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, and guiding him into the complex. As Elita watched with sullen optics, her communications device beeped.

"Communique from the Covenant for you, Elita," Chromia reported. "Do you want me to tell them you'll call back?"

"No, I'll be there to take it. Thank you, Chromia." The rose femme strode back into the center, her thoughts dark. If not Galvatron, then who? Entering her office, she rounded her desk and answered the call on the on built-in vidscreen. "How may I help you, Emirate?" she greeted. 

The monitor revealed an elder Autobot in gold patina, his blue optics worried, concerned, with a hint of...fear? _"Elita One, thank you for taking the time,"_ he greeted. _"At your earliest convenience, I need to speak to you of a matter of utmost importance. There are too many factors to call the state of current events off as coincidence."_

"What happened, Emirate?"

_"Elita, I fear...I fear that we may be facing the end of days."_

To this, she did not respond. The Covenant were not traditionally doomsayers, but since Unicron's attack, they had taken on a more apocalyptic approach.

 _"Please come to the Covenant as soon as possible. I will explain everything as best as I can to you. I'm sorry for disturbing your busy schedule. Good day."_ With that, the image blinked off to the screen saver of the Autobrand.

She sat back at her desk, staring at the now static screen. Cupping her chin, she pondered the emirate's words. Her own faith, strong in her youth, given up at the start of the Great Wars, had come back only a few stels past, after the emergence of Unicron, the Great Destroyer. It was nearly an exodus as flocks of Cybertronians, mostly Autobots, returned to the Covenant of Primus to repent their sins, but once Unicron was destroyed, the interest, once more, ebbed, and almost as quickly as it started, the religion returned to obscurity.

She maintained some faith, but skepticism still gnawed at her spark.

It would not hurt to hear the elder Autobot's words, she decided, standing from her desk.

Next Chapter: Primus on the Dashboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear merciful Primus, I loved those adverbs fifteen years ago.
> 
> It's interesting, gong back on my old stuff to edit. Especially with this one, I found where I started venturing away from the classic cartoon (which may be the reason why I'm more into editing this one as opposed to the previous two) and into the comics; even though I was heavily influenced by the Marvel Generation 2 comics and, to a lesser extent, the Dreamwave comics (which, at the time, were considered innovative, (at the time, we hadn't a clue what was really going on behind the scenes, but this was also a time where I had just turned 21, so yeah, I liked Dreamwave because I liked my White Russians. And don't get me started on cosmopolitans, but I digress), although don't get me and the 'Junxy on appropriate use of RGB versus CMYK colour shifts), the influence of the cartoon stories were evident.
> 
> If you had the chance to read the original edit of this, you'll notice a smaller cast of characters and some condensed scenes, not to mention edits to blend better into the current mythos of IDW. (For example, Darxtar's explanation of Maximo originally involved a battle between him and Sentinel Prime, which, at the time, combined cartoon with G2; now, it's touching on the Thirteen.)
> 
> Original Character Roll Call: Cavalier, Artemis, and the crew of the Four Winds came from me; Stormrave was created by Enfilade.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I wasn't going to bother posting the old scrap. But then I got to thinking, maybe I should, as background for characters who showed up in the current fanfiction, and also as explanation for the timeline itself, because of the deviations following, as i tend to work in bridging and melding continuums that catch my interest. Besides, there were some great scenes I was really happy with.
> 
>  _Past Zero Time_ was my favourite of the G1/G2 series; it was also my last one. (Rusty Angels, which is further down on this page, was the sequel.) One of the faults is the multiple plotlines that were introduced but never remedied. I'm treating this as a somewhat "soft" reboot, a retcon, an editing process, if only for background. Likely, I will not be posting "Till All Are One" or "Belief Module" in their entirety, but may continue working on this as a Thursday post.


End file.
